


Drabble Collection

by QueenyMidas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, Drabble Sequence, Gen, M/M, Other, literally every au under the sun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenyMidas/pseuds/QueenyMidas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the drabble requests from Drarry dot tumblr dot com that I'm filling! Coffee shops, kinky sex, and strange AUs can be expected within.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Coffee Shop

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, yes. The classic coffee shop AU drabble. It needed to be done and it was a prompt from vickykun on my Drarry blog. Enjoy!  
> Also, Draco Malfoy is a white girl. If you look into a mirror and whisper ‘pumpkin spice latte’ three times, he’ll appear and steal your soul.

   Draco's foot tapped impatiently on his stool. He’d heard about drug addicts starting to tweak out when they didn’t get their fix, and figured this was honestly a likely possibility for him.

   Draco Malfoy needed coffee like he needed air to breathe and underlings to make fun of. It was entirely essential to his very being and he didn’t care if that qualified him as an addict. He could stop whenever he wanted, but he had no intention of stopping.

   Finally the man behind the counter got to him.

   “Double-shot espresso, three sugars—“

   “The usual,” the man nodded, some kind of smile dancing in his green eyes. His ragged black hair didn’t even look too shabby that morning. “I know. I put it on when you walked in. I was going to tell you it’s almost ready.”

   Well. “Of course,” Draco said like he had expected that all along. He was an important customer with important business and he was glad even a simpleton barista could see that.

   Harry rolled his eyes to himself when he walked away from the man at the counter to go check on his precious and oddly specific coffee brew. Harry had once out of pure curiosity poured himself a cup of what that arrogant blonde man drank every morning to absolutely disastrous results. Harry had never felt like a drink was literally kicking him in the face like this did.

   That was one way to wake up, he supposed.

   After checking to see the temperature was just right 79 degrees Celsius just as His Majesty had requested (never more, never less. Harry had once tested him and brewed the coffee at 80 degrees only to find Draco demanding a refund and berating him), Harry poured it out into a cup.

   Next came the challenging part.

   Harry poured the espresso shots in with ease before moving on. Next came the exacting dribbles of cream, sugar, steamed milk, pumpkin-flavored syrup all swirling into what Harry hoped would be an acceptable manner.

   The man who ordered it always got prissy about people not pouring the toppings in correctly, so Harry did his best to be precise.

   To top it all off was a fluff of whipped cream and pumpkin spices swirled around the brim of the cup.

   It smelled delicious enough to fool anyone who hadn’t drank this particular mix, but Harry knew all of those wired and sugary flavors packed quite the punch.

   Satisfied with his work, Harry grabbed the man’s usual morning croissant and took both over to where he sat at the counter. His eyes were slightly bloodshot from waiting for his drug of choice.

   “Double-shot espresso, three sugars, cream, steamed milk, pumpkin spice, whipped cream, and Kilimanjaro brew,” Harry recited as he set it down.

   Draco would wait until the coffee was in his mouth before he handed a knut over to the coffeehouse.

   Gingerly, his long fingers wrapped around the ceramic mug and he met the edge with his lips, tongue darting out to catch some of the sweet whipped cream as he drank.

   Harry tried his best not to stare at his mouth—a customer last week had accused him of leering—but he hoped this time it would be evident that he was looking for a reaction instead of a date. Or a reaction and a date. Either one.

   “Perfect,” Draco practically purred, the warm liquid filling him from head to toe like a splash of cold water to wake him.

   “You’re welcome,” Harry replied even though the beautiful, particular man who came in every morning looking half-dead until he got some caffeine into his system never thanked him. Not once.

   Draco, now in a considerably better mood, decided it was time to break that tradition. “Thank you.” He searched for a nametag and found one. “Harry.”

   “Did you not know my name before?” Harry laughed. He knew he was supposed to hold his tongue around the customers, but this was just ridiculous. “How long have you been coming here, a year?”

   “And three months, yes.”

   “And you never knew my name?”

   Draco, in spite of popular belief, had a heart and could recognize how insensitive that sounded. “Do you know my name?” he countered gently, hoping it would justify his lack of knowledge.

   Oh, shit. “Uh.” Fuck.

   “Malfoy,” he introduced himself, one hand wrapped protectively around his coffee mug while the other extended to offer Harry a handshake. “Draco Malfoy.”

   Shaking his head, Harry took the man’s hand. “Related to Bond, James Bond?”

   “That’s classified information,” Draco teased right back. “How do I know you’re not some enemy spy who’s been slipping hallucinogens in my morning cup?

   “Well, have you been actually having hallucinations?”

   “No.”

   “That’s how you know,” Harry said as if that was brand new information that Draco had not already figured out on his own. It was still fun to play around with this man, the one whose name he finally knew. Draco Malfoy.

   Draco Malfoy in all of his obscurity and sudden burst of alertness from the coffee, turned the corners of his lips up. “I’m still not convinced.” This ‘Harry’ was interesting.

   Was Malfoy, Draco Malfoy hitting on him? Harry could never process when people were flirting with him, so he did his best to play it safe. “How can I prove it, then?”

   Draco thought for a moment. “I know how but I only have a half-hour until work starts, and this method will take much longer than a half hour. What time do you get off?”

   “Three,” Harry replied with a grin that spread from ear to ear. This was definitely flirting.

   “Three it is.”

   Harry’s manager gave him a look from across the shop in reference to the new customers that had lined up while Harry was having his fun, and Harry quickly realized that he’d let the line pile up quite a bit. They were all staring at him, too.

   “Can I help you?” Harry asked hurriedly as he went up to the cash register to serve the first annoyed-looking woman.

   From his seat, Draco smiled. Harry was almost kind of adorable when he got flustered. For that, Draco would be sure to leave a big tip.

   While Harry was busy making Chocolate Chai Tea lattes, Draco quietly slipped out of the coffee house, excited for when he’d return later that afternoon so he and Harry could pick up where they left off.


	2. Dreaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was “rimming, bottom!draco” from an anon.  
> God bless us every one.

   The opportunity was impossible for Harry not to take.

   After the both of them had come home exhausted and collapsed onto the bed from separate yet similarly awful days at work, Harry and his boyfriend had barely spoken a few sentences to each other before they fell asleep.

   Harry—as usual—was the first to wake late on that Saturday afternoon in the aftermath of their collapse to an unusual predicament.

   Draco had drifted off with his arms wrapped tightly around a pillow with his trousers and belt still on, lying in a heap of exhaustion on his stomach. Harry felt a little throb of sympathy for him.

   After removing the glasses he’d accidentally fallen asleep in, Harry decided it was time to help out his slumbering lover. Draco hated waking up with those indents everyone got from falling asleep with tight clothes on, and Harry would much rather see him out of the pants anyway.

   Wriggling down to get eye-level with Draco’s waist, Harry gently slipped a hand beneath Draco to undo his belt buckle.

   Even in his sleep, Draco was eager to get naked. He made a soft noise, lifting his hips up while he dreamt of Harry so that the actual Harry could slowly snake his belt out of the loops and toss it onto the floor.

   Harry chuckled softly as he pulled Draco’s trousers down, all of the little noises escaping Draco in his sleep going right to Harry’s morning erection.

   He carefully kept Draco in that limbo between the dreaming and waking world as Harry removed the tight, constricting pants from the sacrilege they were committing by covering up such beautiful and long legs before finally ridding Draco of them entirely.

   It was a firm belief of Harry’s that Draco looked irresistible in any position, but the way his pale skin caught the sunrise through their curtains and let it drip down his back was particularly beautiful. Harry leaned over him to kiss that back.

   Draco let out a soft, happy sigh and readjusted himself on his stomach to get in a more comfortable position once his legs were freed up.

   Harry watched him squirm in his sleep with a predatory grin, noticing Draco’s own stiff cock covered up by his boxers.

   Those would have to go, too.

   Harry hooked his fingers around the sides and slid them down Draco’s legs, kissing his upper thighs once every inch of Draco’s alabaster body was exposed.

   Harry’s eyes travelled along the curve of his arse, and every other rise and fall in Draco’s shape with an overwhelming world of possibilities. He could wake this vulnerable Draco up any way he wanted to.

   Thoughts crowding his mind that made the bulge between his own legs twitch, Harry absentmindedly thumbed at Draco’s arse, giving it a squeeze that made Draco moan into his pillow.

   That was when he knew what he would do.

   With care not to disturb the peaceful look on Draco’s face, Harry spread Draco’s legs open wider on top of their mocha bedsheets.

   He continued the kisses on Draco’s thigh only for a moment before going for what he really wanted.

   Harry’s tongue found its way to Draco’s relaxed arsehole, lapping at the puckered rim. Harry’s hands found their way to Draco’s hips, assuring he would keep Draco still while he was being pleasured.

   Harry licked a languid stripe up Draco’s arse, nipping at the top of one of his cheeks when he heard Draco groan and try to shift in the bed before Harry went back to burying himself between Draco’s parted thighs.

   Draco’s body tensed and relaxed with each prod of Harry’s tongue before his lips planted down around Draco’s arsehole and started to suck.

   “Harry,” Draco murmured out against his pillow. He was right in that haze between sleeping and waking up, and knowing there was a gorgeous man snogging his arse only made Draco want to stay in the moment and slow down his actual waking up.

   Draco rocked his hips back with a whimper when Harry pulled off leaving a suction bruise. Swirling his tongue around the edges of it, Harry couldn’t help but rut his own hard-on against the sheets.

   “Harry,” Draco mumbled again, slightly more conscious than he was before. “ _Harry_.”

   The encouragement was enough to get Harry’s hand wrapped around Draco’s cock while he ate him out.

   Trapped in a state of complete bliss, Draco pushed his hips in a steady rhythm to get the best of Harry’s mouth and his hand. He knew he wouldn’t last long in the morning and wanted to soak up the affection while could.

   “Harry,” Draco said, louder this time. “That all you got?”

   “Prat,” Harry snickered against Draco’s warm, wet skin before moving his free hand up against Draco’s pink hole.

   It was just what Draco was looking for. “Come on,” he groaned, urging Harry to use the spit coating his arse to push a finger inside him.

   “So demanding.”

   Harry was all too happy to comply, though. He pushed his index finger in past the smooth rings of muscle, other hand tightening around Draco’s prick to keep him groaning.

   Draco continued his rocking motion, taking more and more of Harry’s finger in him while Harry’s tongue still lapped against his filled hole.

   “Make me come,” Draco whined, fingers digging into the pillow beneath him.

   Never one to disappoint, Harry set out to do just that.

   He pumped his hand along Draco’s length even faster, keeping it in time with the finger inside Draco. The rising moans, the crescendo of Draco’s breathing, all of it was so deliciously familiar and never, ever boring no matter how many times Harry heard it.

   Harry bit the soft flesh around Draco’s arse, getting one last whimpering rise out of him before Draco’s toes curled under and he made a mess on their sheets that Draco had picked out in some furniture store or another.

   “Like that?” Harry asked innocently and retracted his finger.

   Draco let out a content noise from the bottom of his throat before turning over to face Harry. “I was thinking more along the lines of ‘love that’.”

   With a smile, Harry kissed his hipbone. “Good.”

   “Now, there’s another matter we have to resolve.”

   “What matter?”

   “Of how I’m going to make you come,” Draco smirked as he sat up, lips greeting Harry’s for the first time that day with kisses and devotion.


	3. One Winter's Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was: “Ron walking in on Harry and Draco post-sex. They're all really embarrassed but laugh it off in the end” from lord-overlord.  
> I kind of took some liberties here but oh man I really amuse myself.

   “I think,” Draco proclaimed. “That you’re amazing.”

   Harry smiled and nosed at his shoulder that still had a sheen of sweat on it. “I think you’re even more amazing.”

   “I hope you realize I’m not going to argue with that.”

   “It’s true,” Harry shrugged as he nudged a leg in between Draco’s. Under the warm Gryffindor tower blankets they could be in their own cocoon of heat and fight off the winter chill as a couple.

   Winter in ‘eighth’ year had proven to be a nasty one, and if Harry were to look over his shoulder he’d see icicles hanging in the tower windows. However, Harry was not going to look over his shoulder because the most breathtaking sight in the room was lying in his arms.

   If he closed his eyes, Harry could still see the way Draco’s face looked when he hit his orgasm. Draco calling out his name combined with that expression of utter and complete bliss had driven Harry even wilder for him as if that were somehow possible.

   Draco smiled at the compliment he’d been given. Flattery was the quickest way to a Malfoy’s heart and Harry seemed to be grasping that pretty well ever since they had snogged in the Prefect’s bathroom at the beginning of the year. Harry had tried his best to apologize to Draco for what happened there without tripping over his words, and Draco certainly had some apologies of his own.

   It had somehow led to Harry giving him a messy kiss in the dark and Draco just going along with it. He was alive, and he’d be damned if he didn’t follow what made him happy after a war that nearly killed him.

   “You’re sweet,” Draco observed as he stroked Harry’s arm. He used Harry’s chest as a pillow and could hear his steady heartbeat like a drum in his ear.

   Harry smiled. “So are you. It’s a big secret, though. You only let me see it sometimes like I’m going to tell someone and ruin it all.” His hand smoothed back Draco’s blonde hair. “I promise your secret’s safe with me.”

   “That’s what they all say,” Draco joked even though he sort of meant it. Trust was a fragile thing with The Boy Who Made All The Wrong Choices Up Until The Moment He Kissed The Boy Who Lived.

   “Well, I mean it.”

   Harry scooted down to kiss the crown of Draco’s head when he heard the door to the boy’s dorm fly open.

   “Harry!” Ron hollered into the room as he burst in like a hurricane. “You’re not going to believe this; we found an old Hogwarts yearbook and Sirius and Remus were—“

   Ron’s eyes set on the post-coital pair wrapped up in red blankets while his face went as white as a sheet. The three men only had seconds to react.

   Draco elected to do nothing and just kind of laugh at Ron, Harry proceeded to grab the covers and hoist them up around his and Draco’s naked bodies while yelling “Ron! Would it kill you to knock!”, and Ron immediately spun on his heels and hid his eyes with his hands.

   “Oh, bloody hell, Harry!”

   “Knock,” Harry reiterated as a strong blush came to his cheeks. “Knocking is useful. Knocking is universal.”

   Ron wondered if it was too early on to Obliviate the memory away. “Sorry, right, knocking, fuck,” he stammered, eyes still covered by his hands. “Sorry!”

   The whole thing tickled Draco’s funny-bone. “I’m sure Harry has walked in on you and Granger doing worse,” Draco chuckled to himself.

   “We do not speak of that!” Harry shouted, voice jumping about an octave and a half. “That never happened!”

   From the other side of the room, Ron couldn’t help but laugh at Harry’s pre-pubescent vocal crack. “Right, yes, it never happened,” he agreed through his laughter. Poor Harry had been so disturbed by what he referred to as ‘The Incident’ that Hermione had to get him some warm milk and a cauldron cake to calm him down.

   “This also never happened,” Harry decided quickly.

   “Oh, no. It happened,” Draco said with all the smugness in the world.

   When Ron had found out about what was going on between Draco and Harry he was apprehensive, angry, anxious, and all sorts of other a-words, and it delighted Draco to know he’d seen where that had gotten them all. Harry was still with Draco in every way possible.

   Ron finally worked up the guts to turn around to face the couple—now admittedly shrouded with blankets due to Harry’s modesty—and said something he’d never said before. “I think I have to agree with Malfoy on this one, mate.”

   Draco’s perfectly-trimmed eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

   “Traitor,” Harry decided as the red slowly drained from his face. He was less embarrassed than before since it seemed everyone around him was taking it in fair humor, but Harry was still left feeling exposed. “The both of you are traitors.”

   “You know,” Draco pondered out loud to Ron. “I never thought of teaming up with you to make Harry constantly uncomfortable, but I’m really liking the idea now.”

   Ron would have given Harry a friendly clap on the shoulder if he weren’t currently naked and wrapped around Draco Malfoy. “Oh, just you wait until I show you the embarrassing photos we have of him from second year,” Ron grinned. Malfoy had proven himself reformed to Harry, so Ron supposed he should trust his friend’s judgment, but some old habits died hard.

   “Ha! And wait until I tell you what he does when you pinch his—“

   “Enough!” Harry yelled. The red was back with a vengeance. “I hate the both of you. So much.”

   Draco shook his head and hung an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “You’re a terrible liar.”

   “Shut up!”

   Ron could live with that. Harry certainly knew the teasing was out of love. From both sides? Wow. That was something Ron hadn’t thought about, but Draco definitely didn’t seem to have any evil intentions in his tone or his silver eyes. It was all rather innocent.

   Well, as innocent as walking in on your best mate could get.

   “I’m going back to the common room now,” Ron decided. “And when you two manage to put some clothes on I’ll show you the old yearbook. It’s fucking hilarious.”

   Zipping out of there and closing the door behind himself, Ron figured that having Malfoy around wouldn’t be so bad.


	4. Yes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt is “Harry and Draco coming out together at the Ministry's Memorial Ball for the end of the war” from lightacandledontcursethedark on tumblr.
> 
> Woo! I made this like a couple weeks after the war ended so it's where the deaths haven't all sunken in yet and people are just super stoked to have survived two wizarding wars.

   They would arrive separately, sort of like they did into the world. The important part was that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter would leave together.

   The first business of it all had been telling Draco’s parents, which was only slightly less difficult than nailing jam to a tree. Lucius had turned his nose up at Harry, declaring that Draco deserved better, et cetera, et cetera.

   With the combined efforts of Narcissa, Draco, and The Boy Wonder himself, Lucius would eventually come around to see the actual Harry Potter instead of the one the papers painted him to be when he was a kid.

   “It has been twenty-four hours and my father has not had a heart attack, stroke, aneurism, or any kind of kidney failure,” Draco declared proudly as he fixed Harry’s tie. The dress robes they’d picked out together at Madam Malkin’s were absolutely stunning on Harry’s broad shoulders and sinewy muscles.

   Harry let himself be doted on. “He loves me,” Harry decided. “He totally loves me. I’m going to start calling him ‘dad’ and asking him for fatherly advice.” Harry had saved him from Azkaban, so could Lucius even really complain?

   Draco snorted, loving that wry and sarcastic drawl that Harry put on. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll love that.”

   “You look beautiful,” Harry told Draco for about the hundredth time that night as his eyes flicked down to take him in. Draco always looked beautiful in Harry’s humble opinion, but the slick, dark-green dressrobes he had on really brought it all front and center.

   Draco smiled before leaning in to give him a kiss as a reward for the compliment. Harry’s lips were soft and inviting, and Draco had to actually focus on pulling away if their plan was going to get anywhere that night.

   Even when he did, Harry nudged their noses together. “Five more minutes,” he murmured.

   “Getting cold feet?”

   “Nope. Just horny.”

   “Of course.” Draco gave Harry’s side a squeeze. “I promise we’ll get to that after the Ball. For now, I have to get this prick I know who killed some bald guy in robes that everyone hated so much to the Ministry.”

   Harry smirked. “Yeah, I guess his presence is important. Ready to go?”

   “Very.”

   Draco took him by the hand and led him to the fireplace so they could floo to the Ministry’s event hall and make their grand entrance.

   In a swirl of floo powder, a rush of voices rising in excitement and thousands of flashes of camera bulbs from the Daily Prophet, Draco and Harry stepped into one of the only parties that Draco could ever say rivaled a Pansy Parkinson party.

   The Ministry really went all out for the whole ‘we’re not dead’ thing.

   “Harry Potter! With Draco Malfoy!” the voices roared from outside the landing of the fireplace.

   “Look here!”

   “Is it true, have you two reconciled for a better future for generations to come?”

   “Draco, do you still hate muggle-borns?”

   “Were you on the same side all along?”

   Harry blinked a few times in the face of the journalists before his senses returned to him. A lifetime in front of cameras had taught him to look beyond the flashes and upwards at the ceiling, which happened to be decorated with silver and gold streams of garland.

   Without answering any questions, Draco gave a grin that seemed to reveal nothing and everything all at once.

   He and Harry made their way down the winding black staircase and out into the splendor of the Wizarding World. First-class buffets, twirling ladies in festive dresses, and neatly-groomed men all lifting their glasses of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey up to the man who’d saved them all—and his… Date?

   The reporters were still shouting out questions even at Draco and Harry’s distance from the cluster. It was almost endearing what a complete flock of vultures they were. If Draco closed his eyes and plugged his ears he could almost feel they cared for him. It was sweet.

   Just as planned, Harry turned around to face them with Draco’s hand in his. “Why, actually, I think we forgot something.”

   The press practically salivated, screeching and barking at their opportunity to be the first to get a picture of whatever grand revelation was about to ensue.

   “Did we?” Draco replied playfully as they strolled back to the magically roped-off Prophet reporters. “Why, what did we forget?”

   “Have you caught the remaining escapee Death Eaters?”

   “Has your father disowned you?”

   “No, no. Nothing as heavy as that,” Harry assured the crowd as his coworkers and Draco’s coworkers gathered around as well. “It’s happy news.”

   Draco smiled from ear-to-ear. “We really needed to tell you _this_.”

   Those were the magic words.

   Harry wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist, grabbed the scruff of his neck and hauled him in for a long, passionate kiss in full view of the cameras. He’d even gotten him at an angle like Draco had told him to.

   The roar of the crowd was deafening.

   Draco’s hands flew up to cup Harry’s cheeks with a smile tugging at the lips that were busy kissing Harry.

   One reporter completely lost it and collapsed to the ground, which until his dying day Draco would consider the best reaction to anything he’d ever done, but nobody was thinking about dying right then because if anyone thought about dying for a second longer, they would start crying again.

   All eyes were on Draco and Harry who were very much alive, lit like candles in the black-marble room.

   When Harry gave Draco one last kiss on the cheek to signal their departure, he felt like someone had turned the world upside-down when he wasn’t looking. Harry had no idea which way was up, but he knew which way Draco was, and that was fine by him.

   Above the rabble of the reporters all shouting their new lines of questions at the couple, Draco could be heard saying: “May I have this dance?”

   “Yes,” Harry answered with every bone in his body as he took the arm Draco had offered him.  “Yes, yes, yes.”


	5. Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt is “Drarry chasing their first kid around the grounds of Malfoy Manor” from lightacandledontcursethedark on tumblr. :)
> 
> I stand by my headcanons that their first child is a little girl named Lily Narcissa Malfoy-Potter. I know it’s cheesy but I honestly just don’t care. Draco is dad and Harry is papa. Also this is kinda mad sacrilegious at the end, I have no idea why but I love doing that.

   “Ninety-nine… One hundred!” Harry finished. He removed his hands from his eyes and looked out over the lush gardens of Malfoy Manor. There were hedges, fountains, blooming bushes, and growing trees that his daughter could be hiding behind, and she had just recently gotten more talented at making herself hidden among the leaves and flowers.

   Draco, who hadn’t been covering his eyes because even with his Lily he was a sneaky little cheat, hopped off of the stone bench he’d been resting on. “Alright, the hunt begins.” Draco had seen Lily run off towards the Azalea plants and eventually out of his sight, but he didn’t worry about the lack of a visual.

   The Manor was guarded by wards, shields, disorienting spells, and a thousand other contraptions that Lucius had devised after the war to keep the photographers out.

   “Oh, Lily! Come out, come out wherever you are!” Harry shouted as he and Draco went in hot pursuit of their little girl.

   Draco took his husband’s hand and laughed. “She’s too old to fall for that one, love.”

   “Can’t blame me for trying.”

   “Sure I can,” Draco told him with a mock-encouragement as they scanned the horizon, eyes peeled for a head of blonde curls.

   On the other side of the grounds, Lily had found a hiding place behind a statue of some great-great-great-grandmother of hers that had convinced her Malfoy husband to show his affection for her by ordering giant marble pieces for her favorite part of the Manor. She also made him buy her a new statue every time she caught him cheating, but Lily didn’t know that.

   All Lily knew was that she was surrounded by statues of gorgeous men and women who’d done important enough things to get into grandma and grandpa’s garden.

   She sat impossibly still on the lip of the statue, ears peeled for any footsteps on the freshly-watered grass. Lily had a pair of clip-on Barbie earrings on them that she liked to think gave her supersonic hearing like her daddies sometimes had. They heard everything!

   “Lily?”

   At the sound of her papa’s voice, she took off. “Can’t catch me!” she cried excitedly, dashing in between water features and willow trees.

   Draco and Harry smirked at one another before breaking their hold on each other’s hands and splitting up to run in different directions. Lily looked over her shoulder to see if they were still following her, but they had gone somewhere else.

   Taking that as a sign of victory, Lily padded through the garden in her bare feet that were covered in mud from running. Grandma and grandpa would make her wash her feet before she came inside, but that just seemed silly to her.

   Lily came to a halt when she faced a corner of rose bushes, the skirts of her pink dress swishing around her as she looked for another way out.

   “There you are!” Draco called out from down the row of bushes.

   With a squeal of delight, Lily dashed back the way she came. Her tiny heart pumped in her chest without any expense of energy as she wove her way back through the garden, the footsteps of one of her fathers behind her.

   “Can’t catch me! Can’t catch me!”

   Lily sprinted past a statue of another old Malfoy matriarch before finally coming face-to-face with her dark-haired papa.

   She let out another squeak and tried running in the opposite direction, only to see her daddy in his fancy robes running towards her, arms outstretched.

   “Daddy!” she yelped with a gigantic smile on her face as her light-haired father picked her up off the ground and kissed her pudgy cheek. In seconds, her papa was in on the love fest, too.

   “Got you,” Harry murmured against her head in their family hug. Draco’s forehead and his rested against one another, looking down to their perfect baby. She wasn’t technically a baby anymore what with the ability to run and the complete sentences, but Draco and Harry couldn’t help but see that squirming little darling they picked up from the bio-mother at the hospital.

   Lily laughed and kissed both her father’s cheeks once each. “Not fair. There’s two of you and one of me.”

   It was rather ironic that she said that considering the conversation Draco and Harry had earlier that morning in bed about adding another cub to their lion pride. “Next time,” Draco decided. “Papa can come find us. I know all the best spots around here.”

   “Hey now,” Harry laughed. “I’m already left out as the only brunette here.”

   Lily, parroting what she’d heard her daddy say, put her little hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You’ll get over it.”

   Draco and Harry burst into laughter.

   “See, Draco! I told you she’d remember all of the shit—Stuff. All of the stuff you say,” Harry chuckled after correcting himself.

   “Papa,” Lily asked with wide, trusting eyes. “What does ‘shit’ mean?”

   “This one’s all on you,” Draco snarked with pride. He’d gotten quite the load of shit from Harry when he let ‘cock’ slip out in front of innocent Lily. “You get to explain it.”

   Harry sighed, bouncing Lily up and down in his arms as he thought. “Well,” he started. “It’s not a nice word.”

   “Draco!” Narcissa called from the porch of the Manor to her descendants. “Dinner’s ready!”

   “It’s just a not-nice way of saying ‘stuff’,” Harry rushed the explanation before patting her back. “Papa’s sorry he said it.”

   ‘Liar,’ Draco mouthed.

   In response, Harry shot a stinging hex out of the tip of his wand in his free hand that smacked right up against Draco’s arse.

   “Hey!” Draco shouted in surprise before returning the favor by giving Harry’s arse a spank. “Bad boy.”

   “I’m a good girl, though,” Lily boasted. She was a daddy’s girl through and through and the sexual innuendo Draco and Harry constantly aimed at one another sailed right over her pretty little head.

   “Yes you are, sweetie,” Harry chuckled at the naivety of his daughter. “You’re the best girl.”

   “It’s your papa that’s the rotten apple,” Draco added.

   From her place in the doorway, Narcissa caught a look at her granddaughter’s feet. “Oh, Lily. You two have to stop letting her get so dirty,” she sighed, taking Lily from Harry’s arms so she could cast a cleaning spell that tickled her toes. Lily giggled and kicked in Narcissa’s arms.

   “Grandma!”

   “Yeah, c’mon, grandma,” Draco teased his mother as he shed his own dirty shoes alongside his husband before entering the wedding cake-white mansion. “Lily’s so fast we have to trap her just to reach her. I think that’s a sign she’s going to be one hell of a seeker and team captain for Slytherin when she’s old enough.”

   “Gryffindor,” Harry corrected.

   “What’s ‘hell’ mean?” Lily asked her grandma. With a groan, Narcissa handed the child back to her fathers so they could deal with it.

   Still, it didn’t keep her from smiling when she heard Draco say, “Honey, hell is a fake place that religious people made up to explain the void that is death and make them feel like justice was enacted on those they judged to be sinful, like us.”

   “But it’s also a not-so-nice word,” Harry finished for Draco in a stunning display of heretic teamwork before returning to the task at hand. After all, Lily had her whole life to commit the sins that would win her a place in hell alongside her fathers. “Now, let’s go eat.”


	6. Tucking In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went into a twitter frenzy with this idea and wanted to make it real. Draco reminisced about his mother reading stories to him in bed until he fell asleep and Harry mentioned he’d never had someone do that for him, and requested it of Draco. Pure fluff.

**Title: Tucking In**

   Most of the requests Harry made in bed were brilliant. They were naughty, filthy, and completely obscene. Draco loved him all the more for those wild ideas, and found it to be yet another lovely surprise of moving in with The Boy Who Lived after months of dating.

   Harry had certainly acquiesced to Draco’s fantasies before in non-sexual ways, too, and this one was sweet enough to have Draco sort of excited about the idea. He was going to pamper his Harry, and give him the very best of everything.

   Draco rummaged through the bookshelf they had put in the living area of the flat they shared, trying to pick an appropriate book.

   It had to be fanciful enough for the reading to be lighthearted, but not something Draco himself would fall asleep reading.

_“It’s just—nobody’s ever done that for me, you know? It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid_ —“ Draco remembered Harry saying before Draco cut him off, telling him that he’d do it no matter how stupid it was.

   Draco finally settled on the copy of The Hobbit that Granger had left in their library after visiting one day. She apparently had finished her re-read of the series only to find between her and her husband they owned two copies. Hermione gave Harry the book even though she knew it would gather dust on their bookshelf.

   Draco supposed he was changing the fate of that book or whatever, and took the novel back to the kitchen.

   The delectable aroma of the chocolate-chip cookies that were finally finished in the oven wafted up to Draco, and he flicked his wand so that the cookie tray would rest on the granite counter. Draco would be sure to use magic to keep them warm and gooey, too.

   After filling a glass of warm milk, Draco figured the cookies were cool enough and tried one himself. “Mm,” Draco moaned. “Fucking delicious. Damn, I’m good at this cooking thing.” He was proud enough to forget that the dough had been pre-packaged and all he’d had to do was scoop it onto the tray.

   Draco shoved his wand into his back pocket so both his hands could be free to heap a pile of cooling cookies onto a plate.

   He carried the plate in one hand and the milk in the other hand, The Hobbit squeezed under his arm so Draco would only need to make one trip with all of the required items.

   “Harry?”

   “Yeah?” Harry looked up to his boyfriend. He sat on the edge of their bed feeling more than childish about his request. It was embarrassing even though he knew Draco wasn’t laughing at him.

   In fact, Draco was smiling at him.

   The blonde put the milk and cookies down on the night stand, eyes still on Harry and the absolutely adorable pyjamas he was wearing. Draco usually took his lover to bed with much, much less on, but this was nice too.

   “Come here,” Draco beckoned. Harry obeyed without question.

   He stood facing Draco in the utmost state of vulnerability when Draco rubbed his knuckles along his cheek. Harry leaned into the contact instinctively, closing his eyes.

   Draco’s smile got even wider. “Alright,” he said in a voice that indicated they were starting the adult tucking-in. Draco gingerly removed Harry’s glasses to set them down on the night stand before pulling the covers back on Harry’s side of the bed. “After you.”

   Harry grinned and hopped into the bed, forcing himself not to bring the sheets up around himself. That would be Draco’s job.

   “You,” Draco informed him, hiking the blanket up to Harry’s neck and pushing in the sides of the blankets around him so Harry was all wrapped up. “Are a sweetheart. Do you know that?” Harry was incredibly kind, kinder than Draco deserved sometimes, and the way he opened up for Draco... ‘Beautiful’ was the only word that he could use to describe it, as horribly cliché as that was.

   It was incredible that Harry turned out so compassionate after such a shit upbringing on behalf of the Dursleys. Nobody ever tucked Harry in or patted his shoulder with pride or even told him they loved him, but Harry hadn’t let it embitter him. If anything, it just made him more desperate for that attention from someone else.

   Draco could tell from the first time they kissed that Harry was starved for attention—not the kind he got in the Daily Prophet, either. Real, physical contact with someone who wanted to spend their life next to him.

   “Thanks,” Harry responded quietly, letting his arms rest above the blankets so Draco could hand him the milk and cookies.

   “Are you comfortable?”

   “Yeah. Thanks for that, too.”

   “You don’t have to thank me,” Draco reminded him for what had to be the millionth time. “You’re a darling and deserve every bit of it. Now—“ he sat on the edge of the bed to start reading the book aloud. “—let’s start.”

   The words of the story didn’t really matter to Harry at all. Sure, it was a wonderful tale, but that wasn’t the point at all.

   Draco held the thick book with one hand while the other rubbed Harry’s back in soothing, large circles as he read. Harry was in Draco’s warm embrace and could smell the expensive cologne on him while he gobbled up his plate of dessert eagerly.

   With a lively, animated voice Draco described hobbit holes and the other quirks of Middle Earth while Harry finished his milk. It went down easily and made his skin prickle with warmth.

   Sighing contentedly, Harry finally closed his eyes and rested against the pillow so Draco’s hand could stroke his shoulder as he read. He’d never felt more snug in his life, and happily rested his head on Draco’s hip as he read.

   Draco loved him. Harry felt it in every bone of his body that Draco _loved_ him, and that was the point. Draco cared enough to listen to childish requests and do simple things for Harry. Harry had that in varying degrees of friendship over the course of his life, but never like this.

   This was above and beyond. It was _romantic_. A little bridge formed its arches between Draco and Harry, one that let them connect as something even deeper than lovers. Harry didn’t know what the name for it was until he was on the edge of sleep.

   Family.

   “And then…” Draco read aloud when he noticed that Harry’s breathing had evened out. Carefully, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Are you still awake?”

   Harry’s eyes stayed closed, his long and dark lashes standing out against his skin.

   “Hm.” Draco turned out the light on the night stand before putting the book next to the empty plate and glass. He made sure to do it all with the utmost care so that Harry wouldn’t be woken up from the peaceful sleep he’d drifted off to, and Draco changed out of his clothes until he as just in an undershirt and boxers.

   Draco crawled into the opposite side of the bed, the only light guiding him coming from the window, lit up by the moon.

   Harry was sleeping more soundly than he had in years, so all of Draco’s gentle movements were really entirely unnecessary, but Draco kept it quiet just in case when he slipped an arm around Harry.

   Draco didn’t even say ‘goodnight’ for fear of stirring Harry, but he figured that was redundant.

   Instead, he gave Harry’s shoulder a kiss and let himself drift off, too.


	7. What's In a Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry make a grand reveal at their weekly dinner with Lucius and Narcissa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Bre Czarmoriarty all the way. Also, can Lucius and Narcissa please adopt me?

   All was well at Malfoy Manor, or as well as the Malfoy-Potter collective could be. Lucius had cooked, as he knew how prickly Potter (no, no, he married Draco; now it's Malfoy-Potter) got when he used the house elves to cook.

   Lucius had actually not done a terrible job at it, too. With assistance from his lovely wife that kept him on track, their pasta dishes had come out relatively well-cooked.

   “This is delicious,” Harry said from his place in their extravagant dining room. After Malfoy Manor had been rebuilt from the ashes of what Voldemort had left behind, Narcissa and Draco had taken charge of décor. Cool greens contrasted with a strong, sturdy cherry wood that made up the dining tables and chairs. Stained-glass windows lined the room as well, charmed to be pastoral scenes.

   It was their mother-son project, and Lucius was simply content to watch his family be happy about something.

   Lucius also knew that Harry was only complimenting his cooking so that he would refrain from using house elves in the future. He cocked an eyebrow, but his wife stepped in first. “Thank you, dear,” she told Harry, all warm smiles.

   “How’s work?” Lucius changed the subject. Harry was certainly tolerable when he wasn’t spouting out the leftist beliefs his bushy-haired Granger-turned-Weasley put in his head.

   “Everything’s going well,” Harry answered honestly as he skewered more ziti with his fork. “Ron and I just wrapped up our last Imperius curse investigation and the perpetrators are going to court. We’ll testify soon.” Harry and Ron’s Auror cases always closed up quickly with their combined skills. Having survived Voldemort’s reign of terror and brought him down gave them more than enough experience to pick off petty criminals.

   An almost fatherly nod of approval came from Lucius on that. “And you, Draco?”

   “Similarly well. Lots of people are getting sick around this time of year—not bundling up, those ignoramuses—“ Draco shot Harry a look in reference to him not wearing gloves on the way to Lucius and Narcissa’s weekly family dinner. It had been a typical little married spat of theirs, and somehow Draco’s look held no real malice. “So the other Healers and I don’t get a single dull moment.”

   “That’s good to hear,” Narcissa commented. “But make sure you wash your hands between—“

   “I _know_ , mum. I’m a _Healer_.” When Draco first got the job, Narcissa had done her best to supply him with disinfectant potions and libraries worth of tomes stocked with cleaning spells. She wouldn’t have her little boy catching cold—even though he was no longer a little boy.

   “Just reminding you,” she lilted airily.

   “The last thing we need is you sneezing on Christmas,” Harry teased. He liked to team up with Draco’s parents to bug him. Harry just really loved bugging his husband in every way that he could.

   Harry loved him more than words could properly say. He loved Draco in the morning when he was all crumpled and grumpy, and at night when he could restart Harry’s heart with just a touch.

   Harry also loved annoying the living shit out of him, and Draco eagerly returned the favor. Harry sang off-key to every song on the radio to grind Draco’s gears and Draco cheered for the opposite Quidditch team that Harry wanted to win just on principle.

   From the outside it looked a bit antagonistic, but they knew that it was all a big joke. Their sick senses of humor blended together perfectly.

   “Thanks, _mum_ ,” Draco said again, this time to Harry.

   “That’s not so terribly far-off, you know,” Harry murmured, his green eyes playful and vibrant in the candlelight. Harry glanced down at the small bag on the floor that they’d brought and back up to Draco.

   “Now?” Draco asked, needing to know if Harry was sure.

   Harry nodded. Their nonverbal communication assured that nothing was missed in their gestures.

   Draco’s stomach felt light. “Well, then.”

   “What are you two going on about?” Lucius inquired. Draco and Harry were always going on about something, but this seemed of a higher importance than their usual chatter.

   “We have, ah,” Harry started.

   “Something to tell you,” Draco finished.

   The last time they’d said something like that it had led to them announcing their engagement. Narcissa leaned forward in anticipation while Lucius braced for impact.

   Lucius Malfoy loved his son, he really did, but Draco would be the death of him. He was so willful, so proud, and so much like him that it scared him.

   Draco forged his own path, though, and had not chosen a husband abysmally. Lucius had a different sort of love for Harry somewhere in the deep recesses of his heart. Harry took care of Draco, and was fiercely loyal. Draco would never have to worry about infidelity or his spouse losing interest in him, which was a great comfort to Draco’s father.

   “Yes…?” Narcissa prompted. Her love for her son and his husband was much less complicated. Narcissa loved Draco. Draco loved Harry. Therefore, Narcissa loved Harry. It was all about what made Draco happy.

   “Well,” Harry tried to start again. He wasn’t the best speaker of the pair of them, but he wanted to help Draco out in this talk. “Draco and I, as of last August, have been married for three years.”

   “We can all count at this table, Harry,” Lucius reminded him.

   Draco shot his father one of his looks before continuing. “The emphasis on the amount of time we’ve been together is essential to what we’re trying to say,” he assured his father. “Because there’s a topic that we’ve discussed for a very long time now that’s developed greatly over the years.”

   Narcissa was on the edge of her seat. “Yes?” What could it be? Injury? Danger? Rise of Neo-Death Eaters? Them moving to a far-away country? Her mind went to the worst possible situations.

   “Here,” Harry said. He took what looked like a piece of parchment from the bag on the floor.

   Lucius put on his glasses. He only did so when he was at home and surrounded by his family so that the general public wouldn’t see his aging weakness. Draco would need reading glasses as well when he reached that age.

   Narcissa reached across the table and took the parchment—which wound up being one of those muggle Hallmark cards. “’This card is being held…’,” she read off the sparkly text and held it so Lucius could see the card, too. Then, she opened the card to see the inside. “’By the world’s greatest grandparents.’” For a second she was confused, and then it all made sense. Her hand flew to cover her mouth.

   Out from the middle of the card, another piece of card stock paper fell out, but there were no words on this paper. Just a black-and-white image of what looked from afar like a fat seahorse. Lucius picked it up.

   “Oh, Draco, Harry,” Narcissa said in a voice barely above a whisper. She would be a grandmother. Her son would be a father. Their family would grow strong.

   “This is…?” Lucius was breathless but still managed to speak in reference to the ultrasound.

   “The biological mother is at eighteen weeks,” Harry confirmed with pride.

   “And you had her sign the necessary paperwork? And you made sure she had no congenital diseases? Nothing she or the biological father could pass on? What’s the status of the father—?” Lucius began.

   Draco covered his father’s withered hand with his own. “We took care of everything, father. The paperwork is signed and the father has relinquished his rights. We tied every loose end.” Draco knew that his father’s sudden obsession with legalities was out of the urge to protect his son from being hurt, from having the sweet blob in that photo taken from him before it was even properly his.

   “And a Healer I greatly trust,” Harry said, looking to Draco. “Has said that the baby is growing right on track. She’s perfectly healthy.”

   “She?” Narcissa spoke. Her eyes were glassy already. “You mean—?”

   Harry nodded. “Assigned female thus far.”

   “Harry and I have decided on a name based on that,” Draco nodded.

   “And that was what we really wanted to tell you.”

    Wiping her eyes, Narcissa tried to focus. This was what it had all led up to. Saving Harry, keeping Draco safe… It was all for this.

   “We wanted to name her Lily Narcissa Malfoy-Potter,” Draco told his parents.

   Narcissa really couldn’t stop the tears then. They came heavy and they came fast.

   “Mum,” Draco said quickly. “Are you—?”

   “I’m so happy, Draco. I’m so happy,” she responded, hands coming down from her mouth. “I’m going to be a grandmother.”

   “The best grandmother,” Harry confirmed. “The absolute best.”


	8. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry make some serious academic progress in their ‘eighth’ year divination class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever just die because Drarry? Also this one is inspired by a twitter headcanon-fest I went on like a year ago and has haunted me ever since.

   If Draco rolled his eyes one more time during the lecture, Harry was sure they would fall out of his head.

   That was certainly a concerning prospect, considering how fond Harry was of Draco’s eyes. They were stormy and commanding and soft all at once, and he wanted to drown in—

   “Mr. Potter,” Trelawney said, closing in on her new target. “Why don’t you share what you see in your partner’s iguana bones with the class?”

   Harry swallowed and looked to Draco for help. Draco just smirked, leaving Harry up the creek without a paddle. Draco was better at this stuff than Harry was, and he had admittedly been skating by on his new boyfriend’s skill in order to pass.

   Sure, he wasn’t at Hermione’s level of abysmal fortune-telling, but Harry was… Distracted. Distracted by something that made him furious half of the time and the other half made him shiver from how roughly Draco moaned his name.

   “Uh,” Harry began. Damn that blonde and his penchant for seeing Harry flustered. “Well. There’s a crack on one of the vertebrae, which means…”

   Harry James Potter, conqueror of the Dark Lord, done in by memorization classwork. He flipped through his textbook in a quiet panic.

   “That he’s going to have a pleasant day where nothing goes wrong?” he tried. Draco next to him snickered.

   “Consult your textbook again, Mr. Potter,” Professor Trelawney urged him. Behind her spectacles her eyes grew somehow even wider with concern. “Now, Ms. Lovegood, how is your partner’s future looking?”

   Harry let out a huff as Trelawney and Luna began to talk in-depth about how a clean-cut hole in the skull signaled a successful career in finance. He was never going to get this.

   “Arse,” he griped and knocked his elbow into Draco’s.

   “I can do your homework, but I think speaking for you in class would draw attention,” Draco replied coolly and rubbed his arm where Harry had elbowed it, as if it actually hurt. “And the crack means that an admirer is currently thinking of me.”

   “I could have predicted that without the bones.”

   “Yeah, all I need to see is your boner,” Draco teased and earning another elbow to his arm. “Ow! I bruise easily, you brute.”

   Harry moved his foot up against Draco’s under the table. “I know you do,” he said. “That’s why you’re wearing a turtleneck today.” He moved to play with the cusp of Draco’s sweater, tugging it down just enough to see the marks he’d left Draco from the night before.

   Harry couldn’t help it—he needed something to sink his teeth into when Draco fucked him like he did.

   “You’re horrible. See, this is why you don’t know anything in this class—spending the whole time feeling me up.”

   “It doesn’t sound like you’re objecting.” Harry’s hand began to go lower when Draco swatted him away.

   The Slytherin huffed. “Well, now I am. You have to at least get something in these bones right today to hand in for a grade.” He pushed the plate towards Harry again. “Figure it out, Wonder-Boy.”

   Harry flipped a few pages back in his book. “Hm.” He bit his lip, examining the bones and trying not to think about how many lizards Hogwarts must have led to their doom for this class. “Oh, here, of course!”

   Draco smiled. “What do you see?”

   “Well, because of the fracture line on the phalanges here… Ah, yes. Your future is that you’re going to blow me tonight.”

   Draco smacked his arm.

   “You can’t just ignore your destiny,” Harry nodded seriously. “Deny it all you want, the textbook says fractures on phalanges mean giving your boyfriend head.” What it actually meant was that Draco would have healthy children, but that wasn’t nearly as fun to tell him as pissing him off was.

   “You are a lost cause.” Draco grabbed Harry’s plate and pretended to examine it as Harry had with his. “That’s what these broken ribs mean in your iguana corpse—that you’re a lost fucking cause and I don’t know how you ever got on without me.”

   Harry nodded again, still maintaining a mock-seriousness. “Sounds about right, yes. Just like how your iguana’s gnarled feet tell me that you’re going to take it all the way in, too.”

   “In your dreams.”

   “No, it’s in the bones.”

   “I hate you.”

   “No,” Harry corrected again. “The curve of the spine says you don’t hate me, and in fact… Yes, yes. Yes, I’m sure that these angles here indicate that you can’t get enough of me or my cock.”

   Draco did another focused ‘reading’ for Harry in his bones. “The curve of your iguana’s spine indicates that if anyone loves anyone’s cock, it’s you considering how I can get you to beg for it—“

   “The crooked feet tell me that you are also a complete arse—“ Harry went on.

   “And your lizard’s shattered tailbone predicts that you worship this arse with all of your poncey poetry and talk one hell of a big game, but go weak the second I touch your—“

   “Oh yeah? It says here in your skull fragments that you’re a huge, huge fucking gay.”

   “Wow,” Draco replied. “You actually got something right.”

   “Wait, really?”

   “Yup. Fragments around the left eye-socket in the skull tell of future lovers being of the same gender,” Draco pointed out in his textbook. Harry’s jaw went slack. “You may actually do well on your NEWTs. Just trust your natural instinct.”

   Harry couldn’t see the sense in that at all, but he was satisfied that he would have something to turn in to Trelawney at the end of the hour. “What about my other ones?”

   “Hm?”

   “My other predictions. About you, me, the Room of Requirement, you sucking me dry…”

   Draco let out a bark of a laugh that was wholly unlike his usual façade. Harry couldn’t help but crack a smile. As much as that Slytherin Ice Prince tried to keep his cool, he really was anything but cold at his core. Loud, expressive, laughing Draco. Harry’s favorite kind of Draco.

   Still, the laugh drew the attention of the class, so Harry and Draco were left to hush themselves and make it look like they were still working.

   “Well?” Harry asked, voice low.

   “Check the right arm of my skeleton,” Draco instructed. “And actually look it up this time.”

   Then it was Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Fine, fine.” Leave it to Draco to make him work first.

   When he found the interpretation of an intact arm with no breaks or scuffs, a smiled returned to his face. _The signal of an amorous evening to be had_ , read the line.

   “Well,” Harry said again and didn’t phrase this one as a question. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Draco reach up and touch the suction bruise that Harry had left on his neck the night before with a grin.

   Maybe divination wasn’t so bad.


End file.
